Daddy Killed the President
by mokonahapuuuuuu
Summary: It's not everyday the guy who shot the president's your dad.


**Daddy Killed the President**

* * *

Erik placed himself in the cafe seat next to Peter. "Glad you're here. From what happened the day before yesterday, I thought you wouldn't come…"

A scowl was on his face rather than the cocky grin he usually wore. With his powers, Peter usually fidgeted. The sour look was still on his face. Peter still didn't took the news too well.

The waitress came and Erik ordered coffee for both of them. He asked Peter if he drank coffee, though he still ignored him.

Erik breathed, glancing to the table. "So, I've spoken with your mother… You all seem to be taking care of yourselves well, including your sister." He chuckled. "If I had known your mother had her, I would have come over and visited sooner… Wendy loves that tutu, doesn't she?"

Peter didn't smile back.

Not even the image of Wendy being a 'Tutu Princess' got him to smile.

Erik sighed. Clearly he wasn't getting anywhere. "Look, I know you're mad at me. You have every right to be."

The coffees came.

"I was busy going around the world promoting my mutant agenda," he continued. "I'm trying to make the world a better place for people like us."

Not only was he his son, he had the power to go at super speed. He was absent for eighteen years, though he couldn't be anymore proud of him. Wendy didn't display any signs of powers, though when the time came, a careful eye should be placed on her.

Peter still didn't speak. He didn't even glance up to look at Erik. Did he still need more time and was this meeting all for not?

He reached into his wallet to pay for the drinks.

"Three guys come by my house and ask me to help them break a guy out of the Pentagon…"

Erik looked up. Finally, he spoke. The cup was dangling in Peter's hand.

"Turns out, the guy, you, were put in for killing JFK, and you also happen to be my dad," Peter said. "I always wondered what my dad would be like, though I never thought he'd be a mass murderer."

"No, I _tried_ to stop the bullet from killing him, but I was knocked out, I tried to save him…"

"I grew up without a father for eighteen years," Peter stressed his words. "You never knew I existed, and you were off doing your mutant agenda, or whatever. It's like you never even bothered to check on me."

His insides shrivel. A small, abandoned boy was in Peter's eyes. For a moment Erik thought they watered.

"I loved your mother," he breathed. Peter must see him as the biggest disappointment. "I wanted a life with her, I tried, but I couldn't. And I knew about you. I remember the night your mother told me she was pregnant with you, I remember holding your tiny little body… then I had a lead on the man who killed my mother."

Erik felt his cheek grow wet. He remembered that morning in bed. Margaret urging him to stay and not go after Shaw, though his bags were packed and he head out the door. He had all the leads, Shaw was practically in his grasp.

He only kept his distance, so he could protect Peter. His work lead to dangerous things, and God knows what would happen if Shaw knew he had a son. Once he finished hunting Shaw, he thought he could finally have a life with Margaret. He saw eight year old Peter playing with a baseball and a sport glove. But the assassination came, and he ended up in prison, which around that time Wendy would be born… Twice in a row he messed up.

"You have her eyes, you know…" Erik breathed. "She was the gentlest person I knew. She would have loved you, she would have loved Wendy…"

Shaw shooting his mother played over in his mind day after day. If only he had moved the coin before Shaw had his hand on the trigger, if only he stopped the bullet, if only he could have stopped his mother from dying… He could have saved her.

"So, your mother, grandma…" Peter broke the silence. "You really think she'd like me?"

He glanced over at Peter. If only he stayed with Margaret to raise him together as a family. He was so blinded by revenge, he didn't even see what was in front of him.

"Yes, of course, she would have wanted you to not know what we went through in Auschwitz."

Peter's hand were in his hand. "About your mom, I really am sorry…"

A gentle squeeze went through his skin. He nodded. "Thank you."

"Even though I didn't get to see you grow up, Peter, I really am proud of you and your gift."

His eyes shyly looked down, a small smile drew on his lips. "Thanks…"

He was almost a full fledged adult, though hopefully, there was still time for Peter to be his son. So many moments were gone. Comforting him when he had nightmares, putting bandages on him when he scraped himself, playing ball with him… He missed out on so much.

He missed out on being a father.

_Please, let it not be too late… _

"So, your mother tells me you've been talking to a girl," he was _years_ behind being the teasing father. "Crystal, wasn't it?"

Peter flustered a little. "Yeah, Crystal… She's cool."


End file.
